


Still so Far Away (But not too Far)

by TT_Angst_Queen



Series: The Care and Feeding of your Feral Winter Soldier (AKA My attempt at fluff) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bathing/Washing, But no actual suicide or attempt, Feral Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Hydra are dicks, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Natasha will fuck your shit up, Sort Of, The care and feeding of feral winter soldiers, but its ME, i mean i tried, just implications, kind of, so I dunno, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 01:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT_Angst_Queen
Summary: “…Bath?” James asked, like the word was foreign to him and- judging by the look (and smell, god but Steve couldn’t help but hate his enhance senses right at that moment) of him, Steve felt his heart breaking at the thought that the word, the concept of ‘a bath’ was completely foreign to the brunet, and that was just- Steve couldn’t even find a word for how much that made his chest hurt.





	Still so Far Away (But not too Far)

 

 

* * *

 

 

Steve had spent exactly one month looking for Bucky before Natasha had caught up with him in a café in Belize. She had sat down at his table and settle her eyes on him with a glare that could freeze bones.  She had held her glare for a full five minutes while Steve got more and more uncomfortable, squirming in his seat.

 

“You need to come home, Rogers,” She told him, bluntly, and when he went to open his mouth to object, she shot him a glare that was impossibly more frigid.

 

“You won’t fin Yasha if he doesn’t want you too. And seeing as you haven’t yet, he doesn’t,” She pointed out, and Steve stiffened his shoulders, ready to defend his decision within an inch of his life.

 

“Nat, I can’t just give up on Buck-“

 

“Rogers, Shut. Up.”

 

Steve’s mouth shut with a snap, and his shoulders hunched, shooting Natasha a hurt look, and she sighed, her glare softening and she body relaxing its tense posture.

 

“Look, Steve,” the redhead spoke with a soft tone that was rarely heard from her in public. “I know you want him back, I know, ok? But I also know what it is like to discover the people you work for are evil and that they made you do things that horrify you,” Natasha bit her lip and looked down, then up, a shocking amount of vulnerability in her eyes that would have stopped Steve talking even if he was in the middle of a sentence. “I know that feeling twice over, Steve. First with the Red Room, and then with SHIELD. Both times, I thought I was doing good, only to discover I was working for the bad guys. The only difference is, that the Red Room Brainwashed me, just like Yasha, but SHEILD- I did that of my own free will.”

 

“Natasha,” Steve started, only for Natasha took shake her head.

 

“Look, Steve, I know it wasn’t my fault- that I couldn’t have known. In my head, I know that, in here?” She placed a hand on her heart, “In here, I feel like I should have known something was wrong. But I didn’t. Barnes was Brainwashed far more than I was or any other Red Room operative- I read his file, I know. That kind of shit?” Natasha shook her head. “That takes a long time to get over, and you won’t ever forget. The guy that went to war back in the forties-” Natasha took a breath before looking Steve in the eyes. “That man, Steve, you probably won’t ever get back. Even when he heals, when his memories are back, if they ever do, he won’t ever be the guy you grew up with.

 

“You changed since then, so did he. Only he took the long way to get there.”

 

Natasha had gotten up, paid for Steve’s coffee and left, leaving Steve to sit in the crappy little Coffee shop far from home and contemplate her words.

 

Steve had left that night, on a direct flight to New York.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Steve had returned to the Tower, much to Tony’s delight, and had settled in with much more comfort than he expected he would. Tony had given him a custom floor as he had to the rest of them and even had built him a little spot of the roof of the Tower, a little garden area with a large pool and a little outside studio. Tony had added rails that would outlast even Steve’s super strength (though Tony told him not to test it on purpose or he would put him on suicide watch which-well, maybe Tony was more perceptive than Steve thought; or maybe he was just that transparent).

 

Steve spent most of his time either hanging in his outdoor paradise or moping around his apartment and trying to pretend he was aching to get out there and search for Bucky.

 

He was never really a good actor. Bucky had known that.

 

Steve had asked Tony if he could set JARVIS on a strictly, ‘he called, JARVIS answered’ setting, so that JARVIS wasn’t seeing or monitoring him unless he talked to him directly after an incident with a kitchen knife and a slippery apple had Tony bursting in with his Iron Man suit and Natasha with her Widows Bites at the ready. Steve was decidedly Not Amused and had told Tony so, making the engineer laugh.

 

Tony had narrowed his eyes on his request and Told him JARVIS would still be monitoring his vitals for safety, But he would acquis to his request.

 

Now Steve was moping around with no interruptions, just peace and quiet, even though he had gotten multiple invitations from Tony and Natasha for movie nights and other activities, he had just said he wanted space.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve was very grateful that JARVIS was no longer monitoring him when he went up to his outside garden and found a lank-haired and dirty Bucky looking scruffy and torn between being terrified and blank, cowering between his orchid garden and rose bush.  

 

Steve had stood there, his hands holding his paintbrush scroll, and his eyes wide, for what seemed like hours. He had been living (moping) in the tower for _months_ , almost eight months, and he had started to despair that Bucky would ever return, that he would be dead in a ditch somewhere, or killed by remnants of HYDRA that SHEILD had missed on it’s worldwide clean up.

 

He had woken up that morning with a mind on painting out his emotions and had felt that he was ready to at least _start_ to heal.

 

Now, here he was; gaping at the skittish looking Bucky that looked at him with equal parts fear and calculation- like he was a puzzle to dissect but fear it’s unknown properties.

 

“Bucky…” Steve muttered, the name slipping involuntarily from his lips, and he saw the long-haired man flinch violently.

 

“No’ m’ name,” The Blue/grey eyes looked up at him the fear still there, but now there was a bit of anger, too.  Steve didn’t know how to take the responsibility, and he spent a few moments opening and closing his mouth, before Natasha’s words came back to him.

 

_“That man, Steve, you probably won’t ever get back. Even when he heals, when his memories are back, if they ever do, he won’t ever be the guy you grew up with._

_“You changed since then, so did he. Only he took the long way to get there.”_

“What do you want to be called, then?” Steve said slowly, after a few moments of the two men set in a staring contest. 

The long-haired brunet narrowed his eyes at him, body still tense, like he was ready to bolt, but didn’t move to do that.

 

The ex-assassin was giving a similar look that Bucky would give Steve ack before the war when Steve was trying to sell Bucky some bull and the older man was aware of it but was contemplating whether to go along with it or call him on his shit.

 

He had seen that look more often than he would admit. 

“…James. I’m James,” The brunet hesitated, and looked like he was contemplating something before he grit out; “Sometimes. Other time Winter comes.”

The words sent alarm bells ringing in Steve’s brain and a suspicion that both sent his heart pounding and unease to settle in his gut. He let his face fall stolid and nodded; He would deal with…that…Later, and process it, digest it, before he did something rash, and scared James away, for good.

“…James, it is,” he affirmed, and slowly set his art supplied down by some unpotted plants he hadn’t gotten to yet. He would do it later. Right now, he had other things to worry about.

“James,” Steve said, his tongue twisting at the unfamiliar address he was not used to using on this particular person. But he guessed that this wasn’t the same person; just like Nat had said. “Would you like to come inside for something to eat, James?” Steve asked James, his eyes running over the hollow cheekbones, the bags under the eyes that he wasn’t sure whether the sickly pallor was his actual color or a mix of dirt and grime and hunger. The thick clothes did nothing to hide the way the clothing hung off him, and Steve noted that James looked like he hadn’t had a proper meal in what looked like… well, he really wasn’t sure he wanted to know, truthfully. He might end up hitting something, or someone. Preferably a bad guy.

James looked even more skittish at the mentioning of going inside, and his body tensed impossibly further, and Steve internally sighed.

 

“…jus’ food?” James finally grunted, his voice rough and gritty, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time. It was likely, Steve reminded himself, that James hadn’t spoken in a long time. The thought made his heartbreak because the person Steve remembered never used to shut up, much like a certain red and gold clad superhero.

 

“Yeah, James,” Steve confirmed, making his face open and honest, hands in clear view. Maybe some of Sam’s sessions (that he sat in the back and hid from sight while he attended in secret) were rubbing off on him after all. “Just food, and,” James stiffened, But Steve pressed on, undaunted- “Maybe a bath?” a shower was out of the question; Steve had read the part of the Winter Soldiers file where they had given him ‘Showers.’ They called it a shower to the Assassins face but basically sprayed him with a fire-hose. Steve was certain that even with the Soldiers strength, he had more than likely been blasted into the wall a time or two, probably broken a few bones.

 

“…Bath?” James asked, like the word was foreign to him and- judging by the look (and smell, god but Steve couldn’t help but hate his enhance senses right at that moment) of him, Steve felt his heart breaking at the thought that the word, the concept of ‘a bath’ _was_ completely foreign to the brunet, and that was just- Steve couldn’t even find a word for how much that made his chest hurt.  

 

“Yes, a bath, James,” Steve thought of how to describe it to someone who didn’t know what a bath was. “It's like going swimming, only you’re in a small pool, that only fits one or two people, and you soak in it to get clean,” At the words ‘get clean’ James’ lip curled, and he snarled, and Steve raised his hands in peace. “There’s no spraying water, James, no pain. I promise, I will _never_ intentionally hurt you, and I won’t let anyone hurt you again, ok?” Steve made sure that he looked into James’ eyes, and the blond thought he saw something sharp and calculating, something distinctly _not James_ in the blue/grey eyes.

 

“…You promise?” James asked, sounding wary and suspicious, but Steve stayed where he was, face open and honest, hoping he showed that he was worthy of James’ trust.

 

“I promise, James,” Steve swore, “I will not hurt you, nor will I let anyone else hurt you, I give you my word.”

 

James nodded but didn’t move, just sat in between the two plants, and looked at him with calculating eyes.

 

Steve wanted to squirm under the hard gaze that he was almost completely sure was the ‘Winter’ James had mentioned, but ‘Winter’ didn’t seem to want to attack him, at least not at that moment, so he held firm under the gaze, refusing to show how his heart was almost beating out of his chest (and he wondered if JARVIS was monitoring his heartbeat and had sent an alert to Tony, but seeing as there was no flashy Armour and catsuit-wearing redhead bursting in on them, he would guess not)

 

James suddenly stood up, the movement leath and graceful, more so then it looked like the man should be capable of in his current condition.

 

“Let’s go then,” James grunted, and Steve stood up, ready to leave, but James just stood there, in his little hideaway, looking vaguely terrified of moving, despite his words.

 

“James are you alright?” Steve asked softly, and James made a whining sound in his throat, not unlike a wounded animal, and put his arms around himself.

 

“…M’ scared,” James whispered, any harshness left behind, his eyes wide and slightly wet, like the idea of going inside was something terrifying, something to be feared. It probably was, Steve guessed, swallowing. Steve wasn’t sure if James even remembered anything about him yet, or if he just came to him because he showed him kindness and didn’t fight him (at the end) on their last meeting.

 

“That’s ok, James,” the blond reassured James, “It’s ok to be scared. But you’re safe here, ok? Nobody will hurt you- I promise,” He repeated his words, hoping that they would get through to the shaking man.

 

“….’k,” James mumbled, looking at Steve through his lashes, and woah, ok, calm down libido, not appropriate right now. Steve willed his chub to settle down in vain but hoped it was hidden by the long shirt that he wore, one of the few that didn’t cling to him like a second skin. Tony hated them.

 

Steve led the way, instinctively knowing that James wouldn’t be showing his back to him any time soon; so in a show of trust that he was sure shocked James (going by the sharp inhale when he turned around), he turned his back on the man and began walking towards the door that would lead to the elevator that would take him to his floor.

 

It was an awkward ride, James huddled in the corner of the large box keeping an eye on every nook and cranny around him, but Steve pretended nothing was amiss, and just ignored the wary actions, again leading the way out once the elevator stopped at his floor.

 

James followed behind him, probably looking at the apartment and taking stalk of every inch of it as Steve led the way to his large bathroom, and Steve remembered with a little amusement that his tube could probably fit three people comfortably, it was almost, _almost_ , hot tub sized, with jets on the side, and he made a note to remember to disable the jets, knowing that they would more than likely remind James of the fire-hose. Steve hoped that James would eventually be able to use them because he was sure that the long-haired man would enjoy them just as much as he had when he had first used them. They were very soothing on aching muscles, especially after a mission or a work-out.

 

But for now, he just led James to the bathroom, aiming to just get the man cleaned up and comfortable.

 

Steve had stepped into the bathroom and made it three feet in before he realized that James was not following him, and looking back he had noticed that James had stopped in the doorway and stood frozen, looking around the room with wide eyes and pale skin (he wasn’t sure, under all that dirt, though).

 

James seemed stuck in the doorway, not wanting, or may be able to move an inch into the room.

 

“…’s not…th’ same,” James muttered, looking at Steve with a twist to his lips, something undefinable in his eyes.

 

“No, James,” Steve said gently, “It’s not the same, it’s safe, and made for comfort.”

 

“…I don’t…” James looked lost, so lost, the idea of comfort so foreign to him that it just broke his heart in two, the blond wanting to pull the brunet into a hug but knowing that it would cause the man to either to attack him, or flee, and both options was something Steve wanted to avoid.

 

Instead, Steve stepped toward James, telegraphing his movements as he came closer, and yet James still flinched heavily when Steve stood in front of him like he hadn’t noticed.

 

“Would you like to take your clothes off, James, or do you need help?”

 

The glare that James shot him fizzled out into blankness as fast as it came, but it was _something_ other than fear of blankness, so it lightened Steve’s heart a bit.

 

James immediately started stripping, no shame in any of his movements; Steve knew from the file that the soldier was naked more often than not; when he was taken out of cryo, he wasn’t clothed, and when he was ‘showered’ he was nude and taken naked to his cell. He was only clothed when he was going on a mission. It made Steve see red when he read that bit of information- Bucky had never been ashamed of his body, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have been humiliated about walking around in the buff for the world to see, in his right mind.

 

Steve looked away as James stripped, his attention focused on setting the water to a nice warm temperature that wouldn’t burn, but also was warm enough to keep any memory of freezing ‘showers’ from HYDRA away from his head.  The bath didn’t take long to fill, and by the time the bath had filled up, Steve looked back to See James completely nude, standing at parade rest, his eyes forward, jaw clenched.

 

Steve blushed and cursed his body for reacting inappropriately to a man who probably wasn’t even aware of what the concept of ‘consent’ was, anymore.

 

“Do you want to step into the tub, James?”

 

“I will comply,” James intoned robotically, and Steve winced.

 

“Hey, none of that, James,” Steve told James, who looked at him with wary eyes. “This isn’t HYDRA, and I’m not your handler. You don’t have to ‘comply’ with anything you don’t want to, ok?” Steve told him firmly, but gently. “If you don’t want a bath, just say so, but I think you will be a lot more comfortable if you do.”

 

James looked at him for a few moments, seeming to think on his words, before nodding stiffly and relaxing from parade rest, stiffly taking steps forward until he reached the bath, looking at it in confusion.

 

“You just, uh step in, and sit down, on that seat there,” Steve motioned to the seat that was under the water, once again showing how the tub was more like a mini hot tub.

 

James put one foot in then another, sitting down rigidly on the seat, looking forward, his whole body tense and coiled, like a spring ready to snap.

 

“Just relax, James, it’s alright,” Steve said soothingly. He took a washcloth from the collection beside the tub and held it, and somebody wash (Lavender scented) up for James’ inspection.

 

“Can I use this to clean you? I promise I will be gentle, no hurt, ok?”

 

James looked at him through hooded, sharp eyes, but nodded, and Steve let out a relieved breath.

 

“Ok, thank you, James,”

 

Steve dipped the washcloth in water,  then put a generous amount of the body wash on it, before slowly picking up James’ tense flesh arm and placing cloth to skin, carefully and gently rubbing in soothing circles, the suds a dark, dirty color that made Steve inwardly cringe. He cleaned James’ flesh arm as thoroughly and as slowly and gently as she could, repeating the soft, gentle motions with his chest, legs and back and, with some hesitation, but he soldiered on, his genitals.

 

At this point, James had relaxed, but Steve was sure the next part would have him tense up again, possibly flee.

 

“James, can I wash your face?” The reaction was instant;

 

James stiffened, ramrod straight, and looked at Steve with wide eyes, like a cornered animal.

 

“Hey, hey,” Steve soothed, keeping his voice even and soft, “I promised you I wouldn’t hurt you, remember?”

 

They stayed that way for several minutes, until James relaxed again, and Steve began to wash James’ face, gentle strokes raveling pale, but clean skin, and he did it slowly enough that it was soothing, not clinical, and by the end, Steve felt his heart breaking for the millionth time as James leant into his hand as if he was starved for touch- which he most likely was, Steve, realised. Seventy years- he probably hadn’t been touched kindly since Steve clapped his shoulder on the train, all those years ago.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve sighed as he watched James sleeping on his guest bed, his body tense even in sleep, eyebrows furrowed.

 

The hair washing had gone better than he had thought it would have gone, James practically purring in delight, starved for the kind and gentle touch once he was sure he wouldn’t be hurt.

 

This was the start of something, Steve knew, but he wasn’t sure just how it would pan out.

 

He hoped that he could get James better and that he could get him healed. But he knew it would take awhile, and he knew that it would be a lot of work.

 

But James was worth it.

 

He was worth everything.

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
